Is she said I smelled bad, I would have said “I am bad, bitch” and then I would have hit her smack of the side of her head with a left hook, followed by a right uppercut and then when she hit the sidewalk on the back of her head, I would have kicked her in the ribs a few times and then I would have wiped out her posse by pulling my Harpy and cutting a few of them to the bone and watched as the rest of them ran in terror. Or else I might have just ignored it or said, “Do not!”
What would you have done if you got blood on your Prada kicks?
Oh, man, you don’t want to even think about it. I’m talking nuking from orbit here. Some shit you just can’t let pass, you know?
Hah! good one.
Nuke from orbit high class slang for “washing machine”?
A Harpy? A Harpy? How utterly déclassé! Anyone who is anyone cuts up a ho’s posse with something custom. Peasant.
Well, if you count “anyone in my immediate presence” as me, just yesterday my wife told me that I smelled like I hadn’t bathed in two days. (Hey, it was the weekend). Maybe I need to start hanging around a more sophisticated crowd. 
WEAK.
I would have yelled out, “Call 911 for this Puma-wearing slut!” then it would have been a knee to the gut immediately followed by a rising elbow strike to the nose as she was doubling over; after she was on the ground it would have been a flying double-knee drop on her head and chest, then I would have pulled my Gerber Mark II knife to give her a Glasgow Smile. Then I would have used her head like a ventriloquist dummy, saying to her friends, “I am just a common piece of shit!”
Or, I would have, you know, just ignored it.
Top THAT, you common writer of posts!
If it happened to me, I likely would have said, “No, don’t apologize. I do smell bad. You see, I just took a major dump standing here in line with you.”
To the OP: huh?
Also: huh?
Now a Gerber Mark II? Why don’t we just go straight to using razor blades melted into toothbrush handles or sharpened spoons?
Today, for the first time, I am embarassed to know you people.
Well, I wasn’t going to soil my Kenetsune with that common piece of shit.
Today’s the FIRST time? Damn… I obviously haven’t been trying hard enough.
Err, I meant Kanetsune.
Well I know for a fact you’re a beautiful woman, so you garner much more lattitude than an ugly man does. When I tell somebody something it usually means there’s a good chance my hands will hurt, no matter the gender. Always a buck looking to make points with any woman. Please don’t get the wrong idea. My fear stems from knowing that I judged someone when I had no right to do so, not that I will have to beat someone, or get beat senseless. Many times in social situations I can’t help but wonder how in the hell we became social beings at all. If you’re not willing to kiss ass, then you’re going to brawl.
Life is hard.
And Shag, Me and you should go to bikers bar. Ton’s O fun that would be.
Wow! The same exact thing happened to me in reverse! There I was, me and my posse, minding our own business when Stinky McShitbomb made my bile rise because he bathed in expensive sounding piss water.
“Holy shit,” I said to my homies while trying to dry my watering eyes, “Got-Damit does fucker smell like bacon wrapped pus!”
Well, who knew that those fart-waves gives people extra good hearing? McShitbomb turned around and grimaced at me, baring his green and yellow teeth. I had to hike up my thong right over low-rise jeans and apologize. I even gave him a little twirl of my tassled pasties for good measure!
Would you believe McStinkbomb called me “common”? There aint nothing common about these here triple DDDs. He also called me a piece of shit but I think he must have been smelling his own upper lip.
Oh man, my posse was immediately on point. They started snapping their fingers and crouching down and doing all that fancy foot work they like to do. I knew we were in for it when they started chanting our gang chant:
Boy, boy, crazy boy! Stay cool boy! Breezy, buzz it. Easy does it. Keep coolie cool boy!
And then Stinky’s crew started:
There’s gonna be a fight toNIGHT!
But things cooled down when I told them all about how tonight, tonight wouldn’t be just any night because I felt so pretty. . …
Um-- what was I talking about?
I am totally getting a Christian Bale in American Psycho vibe from the OP. You should’ve invited her up to your apartment for champagne on the plastic covered floor.
I would have said “My! How RUDE! But you know what? WhatEVAR.”
Actually, I wouldn’t have said it. But I sure would have conveyed it.
That’s why, after you cut up the ho’s posse, you cut a big old blade-wiping rag out of the ho’s most expensive article of clothing. That way the bitch has several mnemonics to help her remember not to be messing with the folks who have some style, taste, and class.
The mind boggles… that’s like 9 D’s or something